


Attention

by I_eat_nightmares



Series: Pre-series Prodigal Son [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, episode 1x11 Alone time, fluff at the end but mostly just story, theyre kids in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_eat_nightmares/pseuds/I_eat_nightmares
Summary: Ainsley Whitly has a perfect three step plan to get her brother's attention.Step one, get into the basement.Aka, how Ainsley got her angel.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly
Series: Pre-series Prodigal Son [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715377
Kudos: 22





	Attention

**Author's Note:**

> Hey its been a long time since I wrote but I really love this show and wanted to write something for it, so here it is. I also have 2 more wips and one is actually meant to be the successor to this one, but focused on Malcolm and jessica so keep an eye out if you are interested!
> 
> Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!

Technically, Ainsley was not in the basement alone. Her father and brother were just down the hall, even if they didn’t know she was there. She could hear her father detailing how muscles worked to her brother from here, and she could see the door to her father’s study was open. She snuck towards the door, crawling ever closer, trying not to get any dirt on her favorite nightgown. Her mommy said it made her look like a princess, and she didn’t want to make it look any less princess-y. She was right at the door and could see her older brother. She had been trying all week to tell Malcolm a story about robots a boy at school had told her, and she was confident he would love it. He didn’t talk to her as much, recently. He was always so tired and her daddy continually pulled Malcolm away to talk to him when he wasn’t too drowsy to play with anyone. 

Ainsley was not jealous, since her mommy told her that was not a good thing to be, she just loved her father and brother very much. She would love her father even more if he would share Malcolm, however. She had created the perfect plan to make him share as well. She was proud of her genius plan, since her daddy told her proud was a good thing to be. First, she was going to get away from her nanny and sneak into her father’s office, second, when her dad wasn’t looking, she was going to run up to Malcolm and tell him her awesome story and he’ll love the story so much their dad will want to hear it too and, third, she’ll get the attention from both of them! It was a foolproof plan. Ainsley crawled quickly into the study, as soon as the boys in her family turned their backs. 

She approached the unlit part of the room without fear (since her mommy and daddy said afraid was a bad thing to be), hiding behind a large trunk in the darkness to be extra safe. The dark used to scare her, but her daddy said that he would kill any monsters that tried to get her, and she knew he would. He was very smart and very strong. He could defeat any monster. Ainsley leaned against the box and just listened to her father speak for a few minutes. Ainsley closed her eyes as she leaned back. She swore she only rested for a moment but when she opened her eyes, the lights were all out and she was completely in the dark. 

Ainsley was not scared. She had no reason to be afraid of the dark, so she wasn’t. Her daddy would protect her from the monsters, but the sound of footsteps might have spooked her just a bit. Her daddy wasn’t here to protect her from monsters, even if he would be soon, so Ainsley felt that her fear was justified. She hugged the edge of the trunk and peeked out beyond it. A pair of old, ratty boots caked in mud intensified her fear and suddenly Ainsley was feeling less eager about her plan. Her daddy could  _ have _ Malcolm if this is what she has to do to get to her brother. 

“Ainsley,” a scratchy voice called to her, the owner of the boots she deduced. She was very good at investigating and finding things out, even better than Malcolm, but she did not have time to dwell on her pride in that moment. 

Ainsley did not want to respond to the scary voice, but her mommy told her it was rude to ignore someone when they talked to you, so Ainsley powered through her fear and (tearfully) responded, “Mr. Boots?”

Mr. Boots crouched down and she saw his face. He had a beard like her father, but not as well groomed, and he had something red smeared on his cheek. 

“Your parents are looking for you, little Whitly.” The man put out a hand to help her up but Ainsley cowered from him.

“Who are you?” She started scooting away until her back hit the wall. She had nowhere left to go. 

“Well, you already said I’m Mister Boots, so that’s my name.” He grabbed her knee and Ainsley used all her strength to swat him away. “Come on, Ainsley! Your parents are calling!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, leaving Ainsley too shocked to fight back. Mr. Boots smiled at her.

“Where are they,” Ainsley whispered.

“Right upstairs. I left you something in the hall, if you go to them now.” He stood and moved toward the door to the study, pausing for a moment until she moved to follow. 

Her daddy said monsters weren’t real, and Ainsley guessed he was right. Ghosts weren’t really monsters, were they? Ainsley turned the corner just a moment after Mr. Boots and when she did, the man had vanished. True to his word, however, there was a present waiting for Ainsley in the middle of the hall. She almost tripped over it, since the only light was coming from the door to the rest of the house. She bent down and picked up the small angel statue from the ground, clutching it to her chest as she climbed the stairs. 

“She’s been missing for hours, Martin! Hours! How in the hell am I supposed to calm down!” Jessica Whitly was a mess, her hair half undone and she wore jeans and a sweater most would consider typical, but were rags to her. She was raving around the kitchen and planning to make sure Ainsley’s nanny never worked in childcare again, when Malcolm noticed his sister. 

“Ainsley!” Malcolm got out of his chair when he saw his sister, but his parents had already descended upon her like a wake of vultures. Their mother swept her up in a tight embrace, clinging to her daughter. 

Martin and Malcolm stood close by, Martin placing a comforting hand on his wife’s back and a hand on his youngest child's arm. Ainsley was very pleased. She now had everyone's attention, no plan required! 

•••••••••••

Martin had searched the basement at Jessica’s demand, finding no man who was giving out angel dolls and easing his wife’s over stressed mind. He knew he wasn’t helpful to her mental state, the cheating she accused him of weighing heavy in her thoughts, but this one simple act of running around the basement brought his Jessica back to him and eased her mind, making him a lovable family man once more. He was distraught at his daughter’s temporary disappearance as well, but this small adventure she went on meant he no longer had to fear his children finding “Mr. Boots”, the name his child gave to Watkins, as Ainsley would just see her ghost friend. Watkins was not off the hook for talking to his daughter (with blood on his face!) or scaring his little angel, but Martin would forgive this bypass quickly.

Malcolm was ashamed to admit that sometimes he thought his sister was annoying. He would never tell her, of course, and he loved her, but he was so tired and when he wasn’t tired he was scared and forgetful, which in turn made him even more scared. It was hard to be around a chipper little kid when he was in such a mood, but his fear had reached great heights when his parents couldn’t find Ainsley, his sluggish mind racing to list all the terrible things that could’ve happened to her. She was fine, however. Over the moon, even.

Malcolm knew no one else would put his sister to bed tonight, so he grabbed her unoccupied hand and led her to her bedroom, placing her angel on her nightstand when she asked him to. He climbed next to her in her bed and let her lean into him as she told him all about her day, then her week, and recounted all the stories she had been told that week (his favorite was about robots, and he was glad he chose that one just to see her bright smile of pride when she declared that she knew he’d like it!). Just as he thought Ainsley was not going to sleep again, he noticed her still and watched as her eyes started to flutter shut. 

“Wait, Ainsley,” he whispered just before she could fall completely asleep.The question burned into his mind at the last moment he could ask. He was too grown up to believe in ghosts his mother said, and he wanted reassurance his sister was safe.

“Hmm,” his sister grunted back.

“Who gave you the angel?”

“I told you, Mal. A ghost. He had a beard and red paint on his face and he haunts our house.” The corners of Ainsley’s mouth turned up as she spoke, thankful for the spirits' help.

This did not reassure Malcolm at all, but he was asleep before worry could sink in.

•••••••••••

None of the Whitleys remembered that night well, Malcolm forgetting it before morning, time twisting Martin’s recollection, and booze and stress pushing the worrying memory from Jessica’s mind. Ainsley, however, remembered the moment for a long time. She recalled it every time she told Malcolm stories and listened to his heartbeat for the next five years, and after that she thought of it as an embarrassing tale. The time she was convinced she saw a ghost.

Almost twenty one years later, the memory was no longer embarrassing, but horrific as she held the angel and realized something _much_ worse than a ghost was in her house.


End file.
